


Radiance

by strugglingateverything



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strugglingateverything/pseuds/strugglingateverything
Summary: This is going to show three different intervals of Brooke’s life. There will be adolescence, young adulthood, and adulthood. This story is an AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What if Branjie grew up together and eventually lost touch and they meet again once they are both adults.
> 
> There are some slurs throughout the story so if you are sensitive to words that refer to homophobia please don’t read or be warned they exist in this story.

I. Toes

Brock had always been a skinny, almost emaciated looking boy for as long as he can remember.

This fact is coming to bite him in the ass, because behind him are two much stronger boys who are quickly gaining on him.

The taunts are also coming closer because instead of faintly hearing their slurs they are now booming in his ears.

“When I catch you it’s over faggot!” is exclaimed as Brock scrambles to open up a free door in the abandoned motel on 154th street.

Once he finds one he quickly jumps inside while flicking the lock. The two boys who are just 5 seconds too late pound on the door and continue to hurl more insults towards him.

They eventually give up and go around the back of the hotel and start throwing rocks and other miscellaneous items at the window. The glass shards are getting into Brocks hair but he can’t make himself move away from the onslaught.

Eventually they get tired of his non reaction or that’s what he wants to think. He knows that they are waiting right at the cusp of his street, just biding the time until they can terrorize him again.

Time seems to finally stop going at warp speed. But the very second Brock finally relaxes his shoulders the door is being pounded like a bride on her wedding night.

The pounding gets louder and more insistent until the plywood that acted as a window for the rundown establishment is ripped from its makeshift hinges.

The bright sunlight makes Brock squint and through his clear green eyes he can see a man staring at him while confidently climbing into the window. Brock continues to stare up at the stranger who makes the room seem two times smaller.

“Hello little man, what are you doing in this little place?” the stranger says while rubbing his hands on his khaki shorts.

Brock still stares up at the man with a blank face. Mostly because he can’t deal with anything more than the impending dread that comes with making the trek back home.

Another is the fact that this man is a stranger and he is alone with him, at an abandoned motel, with no one around for at least a block.

Brock is pretty sure if he ran fast enough he could take this man. It would be a 0.1 percent chance that he could actually get away from this stranger but he liked to hope that he was stronger than he gave himself credit for.

Still receiving no response but a blank stare the man tries to lighten up the situation. He saw the lanky blond boy run for his life as he was talking to what he would like to call a colleague. 

The taunts that could be heard from a mile away quickly filled him in on the situation. It would have been easy to brush it under the rug and continue on with his check ups but something in his gut told him to check on the boy being targeted.

“Listen kid, I’m going to get some food. You’re welcome to join me if you want. But can I use the front door or do I gotta go back the way I came?” the stranger says in another attempt to lighten the mood with no such luck as the blond boy still just stares at him.

The man opens the door letting in more sunlight. “Come on kid.”

/////////////////////////

The man watched as the blond kid ate the plate of hot food with reverence only acquired from not having any for quite some time.

The kid still hadn’t said a word to him or even made any eye contact.

“You gotta tell where you live kid. It was fine a few hours ago but I have to get you home.” is resolutely said as the man inches the plate away from Brocks hesitantly eager hands.

Brock’s face immediately drops to his lap. The food given to him by the man he had dubbed Disney was the first real meal he had, had that wasn’t provided by school or begrudgingly by his mom.

The fact that his mom was becoming more absent towards him and their life was concerning but there was nothing Brock could do. They only had each other and every summer he briefly had his cousin Kameron.

The man quickly notices the change in the kids attitude and posture so he quickly returns the plate of food back to him.

“I’m sorry. That’s my fault, I won’t do that again kid. I didn’t mean to upset you, please just eat your food” the man acquiesces because seeing this little blond boys eyes go from slightly content to stormy was something he didn’t want to experience again. 

Along with the power balance of him providing something that is clearly wanted by the other while also having the power to take it away at anytime was something he didn’t enjoy.

Brock hesitantly takes the food again and starts to eat. This time he looks at the man more and he doubles down on the nickname he had unofficially given him in his head.

/////////////

The man pulled up into his driveway while looking at the boy who had basically become his shadow within the couple of hours they had pseudo ‘known’ each other.

“I know you’re not talking right now. But once Monét gets her hands on you, I know you’ll be talking a mile a minute.” is confidently thrown at Brock as the man rushes out the car and runs to the door. 

A woman with dark braided hair in a wrap opens the door. She clearly has a concerned but kind face as she listens to Disney probably recount the circumstances of their meeting.

Brock can see through the corner of his eye that she is yelling at Disney as she makes her way towards the car. Before he can get caught looking he quickly looks towards his lap once again.

The woman makes no move to talk and neither does Brock as they both sit in the silence of an almost stifling hot powder blue Pontiac.

////////////

Brock found himself eating another hot meal less than a day apart. The fulfillment of having a full belly was putting him in an even bigger good mood.

The easy and almost familiar atmosphere in Disney and Monet’s home was something that Brock had never experienced not even in his own home. 

The food here was even better and they still didn’t make him talk.

“You know usually when there’s a guest in our home they speak.” Monét slightly ribs on Brock to make him at least give her a glance in her general direction.

“He may not speak but he definitely makes up for it in eating” 

The simple statement makes both Disney and Monét erupt into little giggles almost like they were two happy go lucky parents on some sitcom.

“That’s quite alright, you can speak to us once you’re ready baby.”

The encouragement and comfortable air made Brock even more trusting towards these two essential strangers.

“My names Brock” is whispered into the air. “But people call me Toes.”

Despite being hesitant and quiet as a mouse in a wall, both of the adults heard it loud and clear.

“Well alright then Toes, which is definitely a nickname I’ve heard before.” Disney says with a somewhat satisfied smile on his face.

“I’m going to call you by your given name, alright Brock?” Monét asks as a rhetorical question knowing that she may never get more than 3 words from the boy sitting across from her. “Where are you from?”

“Beechmont.” is once again whispered into the warm night air.

“Who do you live with? Your mom? Where do you live?”

At the questions about his home life Brock immediately goes back to his food without answering.

“Well do you want to go home?” Disney asks with a comical puzzled look on his expressive face.

Knowing what could possibly be waiting for him at home, Brock shakes his head and makes meaningful eye contact with both of the adults.

////////////////

Brock was guided into what he assumes is the guest bedroom. The minute his unknowingly exhausted adolescent body hits the softest bed he’s ever laid on, he falls asleep.

He wakes up and goes to school like usual. The bullies are still there bothering him. Jose is still cracking jokes with him and calling him Toes in front of everyone.

Despite Jose carrying most of their conversations Brock would say that he is his closest friend. He’s never felt threatened or judged for not being as ‘normal’ as everyone including him wanted to be.

Instead of having to gamble with his health by walking home, Brock is surprised to see Disney standing next to his car right outside of school.

Of course by using context clues Disney picks him up food and they basically spend the day together.

By the time night falls Brock reluctantly tells Disney where he lives and how to get there. They finally arrive in front of the slightly rundown door, that sits in the middle of a small apartment building, among a full row of apartments that are identical.

Brock bangs on the door as hard as he can because lately his mother has a harder time waking up and being as alert as she usually is.

After banging on the door for at least 3 minutes his mother opens the door with a worried face until she lays eyes on Brock.

She embraces him and instead of feeling relief and comfort with his mom he wants to go back and listen to Monét sing/talk to Disney as she prepares dinner for them.

After making sure that Brock was visibly unharmed his mother makes a more than wary glance at Disney with distrusting eyes. The man with his hands in his pockets, while rocking on his heels is contemplating slowly backing away front the situation but the kid is staring at him with those eyes.

“I found him in that abandoned motel, he was running from some other boys so I took him in. He wouldn’t tell me where he lived until today.”

Almost as if she didn’t hear what he said Brock’s mother ignores him and she starts to turn both of them away. Disney tried to hold up his hand for another failed fist bump.

Brock’s mother immediately turns him away and she slams the door in his face.

//////////////////

Brock didn’t look up from his position right in front of Disney’s door. Even after he heard the telltale sound of a rumbling engine and Disney’s heavy footfalls.

Disney has a feeling that after the door was closed behind the kid that he would find a way to see him again somehow.

But what he didn’t know was, how they ended up in an empty dance studio.

The kid or Brock was spinning around in awestruck circles as he took in the mirrored room.

There was a question in his eyes that was quickly answered as Disney nods his head, almost like he was given permission to let go.

Brock knew why Jose called him Toes, everyone knew that he loved to dance and prance around the neighborhood. For the past few years however, he had stopped and he resolutely avoided dance and anything associated with ‘fag’ behavior.

This was the first time he had ever been in an actual dance studio. There was even a ballet bar, there was no way that he would ever know the proper terminology or technique. 

Even if there was no chance of him ever actively pursuing dance he was happy for the chance to just let loose.

So for the next hours, despite his reluctance and utter lack of skill Disney was coaxed into learning some dance moves from Brock.

Although the man would never admit it he did enjoy his time with the kid, within the first 15 minutes he saw the first smile grace Brock’s face.

From then on there was only mumbled curses and previously unheard giggles from both Brock and the man respectively.

As per usual with Brock’s life the fun times had to end at some point. Once they get to his door and his fist is primed to knock for an inordinate amount of time, Disney stops him with a tap on the shoulder.

When his eyes look over the man is reaching into his pocket and handing him a 100 dollar bill.

“Take this. You keep it and get what you want.”

Instead of questioning why he’s being given money Brock takes the money and puts it into his pocket. Then his hand raises once again and he starts pounding on the door.

After more than enough knocks his mother opens up with a scowl and a bruise the size of Texas on the left side of her face.

There is loud tv playing in the background of his home. Brock can hear his mother’s boyfriend mumbles, probably through a beer bottle or a cigarette.

Disney doesn’t even say anything as he walks away already knowing the unofficial routine and precedent that’s been set.

Brock walks through the door and he can see his mother gather up her, asshole boyfriend according to him, man like a bundle of heavy alcohol soaked sticks.

The door slams behind them and Brock was given no time to even greet her. The bruise is new but the boyfriend is quickly becoming a staple in his quickly tumultuous home.

/////////////////

Brock didn’t remember how Jose had convinced him to join the neighborhood game of soccer using a balled up piece of fabric.

But all he knew was that he didn’t want to be there. There was nothing he had in common with any of them with the exception of Jose.

As everyone but him scrambled to kick the makeshift ball away from each other Brock stood still, as everyone jostled him around.

Eventually the ball was kicked towards him by one of the boys who chased him on the day he met Disney. As it’s kicked closer and closer Brock inches back.

The group moves along with them and thankfully Jose cuts in front of him and kicks the ball in the other direction.

Thankful for the reprieve Brock decides that he’s had enough of embarrassing himself in front of the boys who already clearly don’t like him. Of course with the exception of Jose.

While Brock is still absorbed in his head he doesn’t notice that Jose also abandoned the game once he noticed that Brock had stopped playing. Although he wasn’t really playing the game to begin with, there was a clear difference in his attitude.

Running to catch up because of his smaller legs, Jose slaps Brock on the shoulder as he finally stops him from walking any further.

Brock turns around hoping and praying that it’s Jose and not any other boy. Once he sees him alone the tension in his body and soul is immediately released.

For some reason whenever Jose is around him and joking there is an ease in his presence, despite all that is going on around Brock.

“You know you gotta stand up to them. Their gonna keep on treating you like a pussy if ya don’t.” Jose says in a matter of fact tone.

Brock knew that Jose’s words were true but there was no desire in him to prove his worth to the assholes in their grade.

As per usual instead of responding with words, Brock successfully puts the smaller boy into a loose chokehold. Using his height advantage Brock is able to slightly lift Jose up for a few seconds before his slightly weak muscles cause him to lose his grip.

Knowing that Jose is known for punching other boys until they can’t stand up he knows he has to at least hold his own. They circle each other and Jose makes the first move by hugging Brock’s middle and bringing him down to the damp earth.

The wrestling move that Jose executed shocks Brock but still feeling like if anything, he wants to prove that he isn’t a sissy. He scrambles on top of Jose and subdues him until they can’t keep their faces serious or their moves.

They start laughing and shoving each other because despite Jose’s slightly harsh words they were still closer to each other than any other in the neighborhood or the world.

The sun starting to set and the air getting more of a chill cause both Brock and Jose to stop staring up at the cloudless sky, and to race each other to the street where they break off and go to their homes.

Before they leave each other there is a promise to meet before school.

That promise is kept until they start high school. Everything changes in high school.


	2. II. Brock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain references to domestic violence and will have homophobic language and actions throughout.

“Brock?”

“Mr. Hayhoe?”

“Brock?”

Was what he finally heard but before he could finally respond to his name, Aaron, like the asshole he is just had to open his big mouth and answer for him.

“Please excuse him, Mr. Halpert. Brock is dealing with his feminine issue for the month.” is the response that he comes up with.

As the classroom erupts into snickers and giggles, Brock can’t help but feel his cheeks color with embarrassment.

This was the third time today that Brock had heard this joke be uttered from someone’s lips.

Along with the embarrassment there was rage. Aaron has been bullying him for over 10 years and it had only increased once Disney, or Andrew died a year ago. Andrew’s death had hit him hard, his only real father figure/role model, just gone.

Monét was still gracious and Disney’s presence still permeated every inch of the house they shared any time he visited.

Even the dance studio that Brock sometimes visited in secret held memories of a better time. The studio was the only place he allowed himself to cry in.  
There was much for him to cry about, especially when it came time to come home, away from the haven that his ‘fake’ parental figures offered.

Every single time he saw his mother with a new injury there was a sense of helplessness that resonates within his soul. His newfound stepfather, although a drunk, was now shorter than him, and despite drinking his weight in liquor was more muscular. 

Brock feared for his mother’s life every single time he left her alone with the monster. Even if Brock was there, his mother took up the job of a punching bag like a 90’s nerd in a high school comedy.

In the back of his head, Brock hoped and prayed to whatever god that he could find the strength to get both him and his mother out of their home situation. To cope, Brock had a feeling that his mother was starting to do drugs.

That was another thing to add onto Brock’s long list of mishaps and tragedies.

////////////////

A shove that rocks his whole world is what brings him out of his musings.

It is then he realizes that every other high schooler is scrambling to get home-as he gets more of his daily harassment from Aaron and his cronies.

“I’m waiting for you outside.” Aaron spits at him as they look back and laugh at his frazzled state and expression.

After they walk away Brock slowly walks to a window that overlooks the route he normally takes home, and sure enough they are standing in a circle pushing and shoving each other.

As Brock is looking away from his surroundings, Jose sneaks up on him and jumps on his shoulders.

“Hey Toes, what ya doing here so late?” Jose inquires because usually Brock’s long ass legs carry him away from school immediately after the bell rings. “Usually don’t see ya around.”

“It’s really nothing.” Brock tries to reassure Jose. Even though he knew that Jose was aware of the bullying that was directed towards Brock, his popular but fake friends had hidden most of their disdain for the taller boy when around him.

“Well you know how I am.” Jose starts, trying to carefully choose his next words so that he doesn’t give himself away. “Mr. Greastland caught me in a janitors closet. This girl couldn’t stop screaming so of course we got caught. He almost expelled my ass, but of course knowing me I got him to give me a few detentions instead.”

Jose couldn’t think of a girls name quick enough to confirm his story, but having known Brock since they were 5, Brock wasn’t going to question him or the fact that he came from the opposite direction of the guidance offices.

The real story was that Jose had been sucking off an anonymous boy from his math class. Both of them having the unspoken agreement of not outing the other.

No one could know that Jose was gay. Everyone already suspected that Brock was gay, and they made his life hell. There was never a question about Jose’s sexuality, mostly because he fabricated most of the scenarios he told his friends about.

“Well I have to get my ass to detention before Mr. Greastland changes his mind. See ya Toes!” Jose yells while running through the school hallways away from Brock.

After Jose left, Brock knew he had to face the music and walk home. Even if he would probably take a detour to Monét’s house, he had to get clothes which was the only reason he ever went over there.

//////////////

The bright sun bore down on the back of Brock’s neck as he walked towards Monét’s house.

“Hey, Brock you going home or something?” Aaron rhetorically asks him as he and a friend ambush him as he walks past a random building. “Cause you know this is the opposite way to your shithole house. In fact it seems like you’re going towards Andrew’s way. He’s been dead for a minute, I mean maybe I should make my way towards Monét’s fine ass.”

“You watch your goddamn mouth, Aaron!” yells Brock because if there was ever anybody that would cause Brock to get defensive of it was Monét.

“What did you just say to me, bitch?” is immediately volleyed at Brock the minute the sentence leaves his lips. “I know you’re not talking to me, fag.” 

As Aaron and his friend stepped closer to Brock after his outburst of mostly unseen hostility.

Brock inches back and away from the imposing figures both of the, admittedly shorter boys are casting over him.

He hated it when he had his brief bouts of anger, they always ended with him in trouble, whether it be physical or emotional.

Taking Brock’s retreat back and non answer as a surrender, both of the boys back off and move from Brock’s personal space that they invaded.

“Watch your mouth around me.” are Aaron’s parting words to Brock as they go back to stand on a street corner, doing nothing as per usual. “Next time you won’t be spared.”

So that left Brock to actually come home, the first time in 2 weeks. There was no way he could walk past Aaron without there being another altercation.

///////////////

As Brock’s small apartment building comes into view, his mother does as well.

The minute she sees him there is relief on her face, and her hands seem to unconsciously clasp in front of her, almost like Brock’s is being prayed to.

“Hey baby, you have your keys on you? Will must be sleeping and I don’t want either of us to disturb him. So why don’t you open the door?” greets Brock once he gets closer to her.

He knows that his mother is lying. The body language of his mother is screaming panic, which means that they probably got into a fight, that inevitably ended with Brock’s mother kicked out of her own home.

Not wanting to be in his mother or stepfathers presence for an extended amount of time. Brock hurried to the door with his mother hot on his heels. The minute the door is unlocked, Brock’s mother barges through his slightly lanky body, and enters the tension filled home.

Every visible door is closed and everything looks quiet but there is something underlying everything if you look hard enough. Brock knows that behind one of those doors is Will.

Trying to scramble as far away from the feuding couple and all humans as quick as he can, Brock starts towards the stairs, praying that he won’t have to engage her in a conversation.

“Brock were you over at Monét’s? We haven’t seen you in a few.” Brock’s mother asks as she makes continuous glances at her bedroom door. “How’s she doing? I tried to call around to the house but no one answered, that probably understandable after Andrews passing.” She partially answers her seemingly endless question stream.

“She’s fine. I’m really tired though, so I’m just gonna head up and sleep.” Brock murmured trying to speed up the conversation so that he could finally be alone.

Then his mother got a funny look on her face, half parts inquisitive, and the other cruel.

“Well she must be taking care of you, I mean you look like you’re even putting on weight.” He didn’t get where she was going with the statement. “She give you any money?”

And then the ball was dropped. Brock knew that something like this would be coming eventually, especially with Will losing another job the previous month.

Despite not living in a luxurious place, he knew his mother couldn’t handle the bills and her drug habit on her own. This was a regular occurrence, and despite the fact that Monét did give him money, he needed it to survive.

Jumping from homes was stressful and food plus a warm bed were always welcome treats once he felt he was safe, which was only at Monét’s house.

He started to back up as his mother got closer, seemingly analyzing him and his body language, she starts making grabs at his pants and shirt, almost trying to find the money through touch instead of asking him again like a normal human.

Then the game began as Brock dodged and swatted his mother hands away from him. The struggle was only hard on her part since he was getting taller and apparently more muscular as well.

“Listen! You need to stop, if I give you the money will you just stop?” Brock finally cuts their staring contest/shakedown short, not wanting to deal with even more bullshit. The scuffle was creating unnecessary noise and despite not believing her story from before they got in, he believed that Will was asleep and if they woke him up no one would be getting sleep tonight.

Getting the money from his back pocket, Brock throws it towards her chest and picks up his fallen book bag by the door. 

Despite the fact that Aaron very well could be still outside, that was a chance he was going have to take, and now he didn’t have any money but he got away.

////////////////////////

Surprisingly Brock didn’t encounter anyone in the sunset lit streets on his way to Monét’s house. Of course the minute he knocked on the door, she accepted him in and immediately made him a plate.

Knowing the situation with his mother she always made sure that he left her house that she used to share with Andrew, with a full stomach and at least $100.

After a shared dinner that was filled with warm inside jokes and reminiscent stories, Brock knew that he would not be able to get any sleep so he found his way to the beach a few blocks away from the house.

Even though he had only been staring at the dark abyss of the calm ocean, someone interrupted his internal musings as per usual.

The person plops down right next to him and the familiar presence of Jose is immediately registered into Brock’s brain. 

Not sparing him a greeting because he didn’t get one first Brock turns his head away from his brief staring and goes back to his thoughts.

“Were you waiting for me, Toes?” Jose finally interrupts the comfortable silence that had overtaken their surroundings.

“Huh.” is all that Brock can verbalize because the days events are still taking their toll on him. Rustling and elbows moving are what alert him to Jose’s movements and the joint that he is rolling back up into his small hands.

“Whatcha doin out here in my spot?” the unspoken words of smoke and relaxation are unneeded and of course Brock feels even more awkward around Jose now that they are completely alone.

Brock starts to get up and leave, the safe haven that the warm sand and isolation provided now broken with the presence of his loud but kind, kind of crush but also longtime friend.

“You don’t gotta leave, stupid. I was just wondering what you were doin all the way out here, all by yourself looking all sad and conte- contem- all thoughtful and shit.” Jose hastily says knowing that’s Brock would leave the second he felt threatened like a scared animal. “You smoke?”

Trying to lessen the tension he offers up the joint to Brock’s eye line and watches as the taller boy takes the joint and lights it expertly. The shocked face doesn’t go unnoticed and once Brock takes a few hits he blows out the smoke away from Jose’s face.

“My mom used to leave some shit out when we were younger and you know that Will smokes like chimney at the North Pole on Christmas.” is the response Brock gives, he only did it a few times but never enough to get addicted or even dependent on any drug, knowing how it’s affecting his mother and her mental and physical state.

“Well I’ll be dammed, lil Toes got a little bad side to him. All the ladies better watch out huh?” Jose knowingly teases him, despite Brock never confirming or denying the rumors that have always swirled about his sexuality, Jose saw how he looked at him.

It was the same way that he looked at Brock, but on one, even Brock was aware that he did. It was a secret that he would probably take to the grave knowing how the people around them were.

The joint gets passed between the two of them and once it finished they just stare up at the sky as the high makes them feel both weightless and grounded.

“You ever just catch the quiet and the only thing you hear is your own heartbeat?” Brock’s questions hoping that the philosophical question won’t go over Jose’s head or that he won’t make a stupid ass joke.

“Yeah, sometimes if you sit still long enough I can hear it, but you gotta catch it or it won’t come back for a while with how things are around here with all the bullshit. Sometimes it’s so beautiful you could almost cry.”

“You cry?”

“Nah, that’s not my thing but it makes you want to.” Jose cheeses while looking over at Brock who still has a contemplative look on his beautiful face. “What do you cry about Brock? You cry right?”

“Yeah I cry, sometimes it feels like I’ll just dissolve in a puddle, because there are so many tears.”

“If you turned into a puddle then you’d just drip down into that ocean and drown, just like all these other motherfuckers trying to drown all their sorrows in everything but something healthy.”

“What do you mean? I’m not trying to drown.”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that with those googly eyes I’m only saying this from what you just told me. It seems like something you want to do.”

“Well I want to do a lot of things that don’t make sense.”

“Hold on now, I ain’t say that it don’t make sense. But what you mean a lot of things, like what?”

“Fuck, why are you so nosey?”

“Look who’s cursing now. Don’t be getting smart with me Brock.”

“Whatever Jose.”

“Oh so you were trying to get smart with me?” Jose says around a booming laugh. He reaches for Brock’s neck and pulls him towards himself after the laughter dies down and they stare at each other.

His other hand makes its way up towards his upper thigh and then higher to someplace no one but himself has touched.

The energy between the two immediately becomes charged. “You tryna to get smart with me?”

They are still staring at each other as Joses hand on Brock’s neck makes small motions. His other hand stays motionless and stable and Brock gets stiffer.

“You gonna answer the question or what?”

There’s no way that Brock could answer with Jose’s hand being where it is. So he slowly leans himself on Jose’s shoulder, almost as if he’s passing his burden onto him.

Eventually the position feels like too little so they sit up and stare into each other’s eyes. Green meeting brown in the moonlight reflected night. They both lean in as Jose’s smile gets bigger, their lips meet finally and the kiss quickly becomes heavy and all consuming.

Then Jose ups the ante by starting to unbuckle Brock’s belt. The sound of the metal hitting itself is the only thing interrupting the quiet atmosphere along with their heavy breaths and Jose’s moans when Brock sucks on his bottom lip.

Once the belt is unbuckled Jose delves deeper into Brock’s pants and then Brock gasps almost as if he was stabbed. The distraction of Jose’s hand prevents him from reciprocating the kiss anymore, so he again leans his head on Jose’s shoulder as he is brought closer to the precipice.

He comes with no more breath in his lungs and a more than strong grip on Jose’s waist. The aftermath is wiped on the sand and will probably be washed away at sea within a few hours, but all is good and Jose’s heart is strong in his ears.

////////////////////////

“Whose car is this?” Brock honestly asks because if there was one trait that Jose had it was bad driving. He couldn’t be trusted to even park, let alone drive both of them home, in the dark.

“Who the fuck you sitting next to?”

“How’d you even get a car?”

“With money, duh? Did that nut take away your brain cells, damn? You keep on acting all green even though you grew up around here.

“Don’t you live around Legume?”

“Yea, but I’m not going there tonight so just drop me off at Monét’s.”

The conversation lulls as they both keep their eyes and hands away from each other.

“You ever did anything like that?”

‘No, never’ is what Brock wants to say but all he can muster is a nod as his cheeks color once again.

“I figured that.”

Once Jose pulls up into the driveway, Brock gets out and leans into the window not wanting to leave the boy who just rocked his world so soon.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“It was really no problem. I’ll see you around okay.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

They reach in each other and the handshake that is usually customary between them becomes a prolonged hand holding session as they still look into each other’s eyes.

////////////////////

The cafeteria was crowded as always, but today was different. Despite being friends Jose and Brock very rarely ate lunch together. Whether it be because Brock was so harassed that he didn’t eat or because Jose simply skipped school altogether.

Brock searched the cafeteria for the smaller boy and once he set his eyes on him he started in that general direction, but Aaron managed to intercept and wanting to prevent any embarrassment Brock moved to the other end of the cafeteria with his back to them.

Jose looked up from his sad lunch, while sucking on some grape juice, once someone’s shadow loomed over his plate and him. Hoping that it was Brock’s awkward self waiting for his go ahead to sit he looks up with a smile that immediately drops once he sees that it’s Aaron bothering him.

“Hey Jose.”

“Wassup Aaron.”

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Well school hasn’t seen me either but you know what I mean.”

“Yea I feel you man.”

“Lunch used to be wild though right?”

“Yes but the food was and still is the absolute shit.”

“I’m not talking about the food, fool.” Aaron cracks a smile as he sits down across from Jose. “Although those pizza Friday’s were the shit.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“Nah, I’m talking about that game we used to play. You remember right? Wasn’t it ‘knock down/stay down’? Man you used to be the king of that shit.”

“Yeah, I remember my crazy ass used to rule.”

“Remember that Italian kid you fucked up?”

“Yeah, wasn’t his name like Mario or some shit?”

“Man, you fucked his shit up, don’t you remember we called your ass Tyson after that shit.” Aaron could tell that the mention of his past put Jose in a weird spot. “People don’t do things like that anymore and it’s real sad.”

“Whatcha trying to say man.” Jose says trying to speed up the cryptic words that Aaron kept on spouting at him.

“I’m saying, if I point someone out, will you do what needs to be done?”

“Isn’t that the game, stupid? If you dare me then I have to do it.”

“Well okay then. Let’s see who going to get dropped today.” is sarcastically thrown over Aaron’s shoulder as he finally leaves Jose’s table.

//////////////////

School is finally out and Brock was never able to catch Jose alone, so he never got to speak to him about what happened the night before.

Everyone seems to be waiting for something so Brock tries to speed past and avoid whatever is about to happen. But as Brock had already come to find out, his luck as always was shitty.

Aaron was walking around yelling at people about who was going to be next. Once he sees Brock he stops and shoved Jose to get his attention.

“Jose. Hit him.” Aaron says as he points right in between Brock’s thick eyebrows.

As the crowd of people circle around them finally getting the entertainment they were waiting for, Aaron and his friends start jeering and hyping Jose up to ‘hit him’ ‘beat his ass’ ‘he’s a bitch’.

Since he did agree to this, Jose hesitant only to Brock, walks up to Brock and punches him with all his might.

The punch makes Brock see stars along with him kneeling down on one knee. Still staring at the shorter boy he shakily stands up. 

The second punch doesn’t hurt less but this time he stays standing. After collecting himself in spite of the crowds cheers he steadily looks at Jose. 

The reaction to the punches aren’t good enough for Aaron so he and his friends start kicking and punching any part of Brock’s body they can reach. 

Eventually school administration catches wind of the beating Brock is getting and a male teacher breaks up the jumping. After everyone hears about the intervention of adults they scatter.

The only people left are the male teacher and Brock’s limp body. The security try to capture a few slow stragglers but they give them the wrap around and they all get away.

/////////////

So that’s how Brock finds himself in the principals office. His bruised body and face stare blankly at her as she stares at him. The visible bruising on his face and arms make her wince at what his pale torso must look like.

“Are you going to name the people who did this horrendous act against you? You know you haven’t done anything wrong, why would you protect these people?” The principal tries again to make him finally talk to her. “If you don’t speak we won’t be able to press charges.”

“You don’t even know.”

“So what, you think people being harmed is something new, boy?”

“I’m not a boy.”

“Oh don’t I know that, cause if you were a real man there would be other knuckleheads sitting here with you, taking their due punishment.”

“You still don’t even know.” Brock says tearfully as he looks out the window because he can’t look at her pitying eyes, those eyes focusing in on his bruises.

“I’m not blaming you. I’m also not trying to minimize your struggle, but if you need any help or just someone to talk to please come to me. My door is always open and once you walk through that glass door you can tell me anything. It will get better.”

////////////////////

Brock stares at his hazy reflection in the glossy mirror. The bruises are getting darker and the sink in front of him is full of water and ice making it freezing.

This was the only way that the bruising and swelling would go down, without using his already weak arms to hold anything up. 

Brock lowers his head into the sinks and as the icy water surrounds his head he lets out all of his frustrations through a scream. The contrast between his feelings before he went to bed and how he felt now, almost making him believe that he dreamed it up.

But there was no mistaking the pain in Jose’s eyes, even his mouth as he continuously told Brock to not get back up.

Finally emerging from the sink after he expelled all of his stored breath, he looks in the mirror through the water in his eyelashes. The determined set of his jaw, and the fire in his eyes are a new addition to his reflection but he can’t help but ignore it as he thinks of what he’s going to do tomorrow.

////////////////

The bell had already rung. Students were in their classrooms and seemingly no one was in the halls as Brock determinedly walked towards his first class of the day, the one he shared with Aaron.

People skipping class turn their eyes towards him and he stomps and yanks doors on his way. His appearance probably had something to do with the stares as the bruising had only slightly gone down after yesterday’s abuse.

Finally in front of his classroom Brock pulls the door open and walks fast to his seat. He pulls his mostly empty book bag off of his back.

He takes the wooden chair that’s been his seat all year.

Raising it above his head he starts towards Aaron.

The chair is slammed into Aaron’s back and he falls limply on the floor as Brock is then held back by at least 5 people.

Brock knows that he is yelling but he can’t quite hear himself over the ringing in his ears. Whether it’s from adrenaline or anger or maybe even both, he can’t tell.

Everything is black but eventually Brock is walking with an officer at his back, holding onto the cuffs on his wrists.

Everyone is looking at him, some with respect and others with slight fear.

The only person who matters is at the entrance of the school.

Jose.

He’s looking at him with shock, despite him skipping he knows that Brock had to have done something bad to be arrested, at school of all places.

They make eye contact as Brock ducks his tall frame into the small backseat of the cop car. And through the bars they continue until the engine starts and the car moves.

Brock doesn’t come to school the next week. 

Or the next month.

After a year Jose stops waiting for him, and he moves on with his life.


	3. Chapter 3

Brock wakes up in a cold sweat, he’s shirtless in bed just like any other night. 

He gets a good look of his reflection, the wet towel is being dragged over his hot skin. Then he dunks his head into a sink full of ice. 

The ritual equal parts jarring, and calming as he is pulled away from the memory of the nightmare.

The sunlight streams through Brock’s vintage car as he makes his way to visit his mother, a routine they picked up once she was allowed visitors. The facility’s outside visiting area leaves a lot to be desired, but they do have chairs and tables.

Tables that hold his mother’s cigarettes, as she lights one from the pack she flicks her blue eyes to him.

“Gonna quit doing this too.” she says in half explanation and, half excuse. “But hey at least I’m trying right? They don’t offer the patch here.”

“It’s fine mom.......I’m not sleeping.”

“Well, why not?”

The silence that follows is awkward at the very least. The knowing look in his eyes causes her to look at her lap.

“Right. If you knew why would...”

She never finishes her thought and he jumps back into the conversation to make up for it.

“Just bad dreaming I guess.”

“Still? Don’t you think that you should talk to someone? A professional maybe. How about me, your mother?” She chuckles trying to lighten up the air between them as Brock’s brows furrow and his eyes darken. “I know it seems silly, but I am your mother, right? If you feel like you can’t talk to anybody, at least you know that somebody in your life is trustworthy, right?”

Brock still makes no move to respond to her rhetorical questioning, as per usual.

“Have you talked to Monét?” his mother asks knowing that the question will elicit a response.

“Yep.”

“Well, how is she?”

“Fine.” is shrugged at her. Brock knows that she hates one word answers, but he can’t help but want to piss her off.

His mother returns the shrug mockingly and echoes his response. She eventually smiles and Brock can’t help but want to smile with her, their past making him immediately shut down and become serious again.

“When are you going home?”

“Home? I already finished treatment and they said I when a place here for as long as I want. I work with the people here, keeping myself out of trouble.”

“That’s really good, mom.”

“Well thank you, I think it’s good too. Really good.”

As Brock looks around the courtyard, he can see another mother and son having a similar stilted conversation, and tension in his body returns as he clenches his jaw.

His mother is already staring at his face, as he avoids eye contact, knowing she’s going to ask the same question for the nth time.

“You still out there fighting and selling?” 

Brock looks down at his hands in his lap and doesn’t answer. He had stopped selling but the fights had been steadily increasing as he won more and made a name for himself. His silence is enough of an answer for his mother.

“You know we didn’t move so that you could pull the same shit, Broderick!”

“I’m going to leave.” Brock says calmly as he rises from his seat slightly.

“No you’re going to listen to me, so sit down.”

“Who are you? Really I’m asking who are you, to tell me what to do?”

She still has her hands on him, they’ve been there since he threatened to leave, and despite being angry they bring him calm.

“I didn’t want you to end up like this Brock, I really messed up, but you don’t have to have a black heart like me. You can change, while you still have time. Now I love you, you don’t have to love me, but I have love for you and you need to know that.” she waits for an answer or reaction to her declaration of love and affection but she is still met with a brick wall. “Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.” is said after she tugs on his muscled arm.

She lights her third cigarette and leans back on her chair.

“Just one day at a time, one step at a time, baby.”

//////////////////////

The other half of the day found Brock once again driving in his car. The heavy bass of the music permeated every inch of the car making everything vibrate as he ran over potholes and curbs.

The seats were low and far back to account for his height and he vigilantly watched the streets as they passed, making sure that he didn’t see anybody he knew.

The slightly rundown looking building that held his newfound happiness quickly comes into view as he speeds up. The first person to greet him as he enters is Yvie.

There was only one way to describe her, and that was unique. He had never met anybody like her and he doubted he ever would. Her temper and talent made for a worthy but erratic opponent.

Despite being in different weight classes they sparred well, and had never had any problems which couldn’t be said for any of the female fighters in Yvie’s division.

Brock could honestly say that he had found a friend in her. He had even been out for drinks or even just dinner, with her or both her and her girlfriend, Scarlet.

Scarlet at first had rubbed him the wrong way. Her cocky and sometimes whiny attitude putting him off of her immediately along with her sarcastic comments about his looks.

Eventually they spent more time together because of Yvie and they ended up having a lot in common. The friendship blooming just like his relationship with her girlfriend.

Not really wanting to talk they both give each other head nods before going their separate ways.

Brock let out all of his aggression and pent up frustration from his visit with his mother on the punching bags, then the speed bags, and then on a human opponent.

Finally being tired out from all the strain he leaves, knowing that he’ll do it all again within a week. A fight was coming up and he needed to make weight and work on his technique. The perfectionist in him, berating him whenever he didn’t immediately get a move correct, or when he didn’t properly anticipate a move from his opposition.

/////////////////////////

Brock is just catching up on much needed sleep, only the whir from the air conditioning interrupting the peace, when his phone starts ringing loud enough to wake the dead.

The sound is quickly silenced by Brock’s pale hand slapping it, after turning over away from the noise a second ringing is heard until it’s ignored.

//////////////

Brock is doing pull ups on a bar installed in a doorway when his phone rings again. He ignores it again. 

Just like he ignores sleep for the second night in a row.

//////////////////

Brock’s head is halfway in the freezer as the cool air hits his sweaty brow. It’s still very early morning and of course he can’t sleep.

A voice message from his mother is playing while he tries to soak up the cold, he still ignores her.

/////////////////////

His head is dunked in a sink full of ice and water. 

Vaguely he can hear his mother’s voice wish him good rest. 

Knowing once again that he hasn’t slept he keeps himself dunked until he can’t think anymore than the cold.

////////////////////

Brock is once again staring up at his ceiling fan, watching it go through the motions of unsuccessfully cooling him down.

The phone rings again for the nth time and without looking at the caller id, he answers.

“Mom, its really late. I’m trying to get some sleep, I saw your many messages.”

There’s no response which is unusual because lately he can’t get his mother to stop talking to him. Finally looking at the caller id, he sees an unknown number. 

“Hello?” a raspy voice answers through a slightly crackled receiver. “Moose?... I mean Brock.”

The voice gives him pause. He knows that voice. Despite not hearing it for almost a decade he could pick it out of thousands of voices. 

“How are you? It’s um... Jose.”

Brock’s face sits perfectly still. Almost like a statue, he doesn’t think that his lungs are working. He can’t breathe because Jose is talking to him.

“Are you there? Can you say something damn, feel like I’m talking to myself.”

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Long time and no fucking seeing, right? I actually asked Monét for your number........and I’m working somewhere and this person performed this song that...... just made me think of you.” Jose says as Brock still tries to recover from the shock of hearing a ghosts voice. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah I’m here.”

“Do you even remember me?”

How could Brock not remember him, the only man that had ever touched him, sexually or romantically. Brock doubted that he could ever erase Jose from his memory.

“Yeah, of course I remember you. It’s been a while.”

“I know. Where are you now?”

Brock can’t help but close his eyes and take a deep breath, this seemingly menial conversation stressing him out. 

“Georgia. Atlanta. I moved up here once everything happened.” The unspoken fight and arrest are unnecessary because Jose had to have been aware of his situation.

“Yeah, I heard that you moved.”

The quiet follows, its not awkward but it’s not comfortable. 

“I’m really sorry. About everything, I mean. I’m really sorry about all the fuck shit that went down.” Jose says and Brock’s eyes can’t help but search his room for an anchor because the apology lifts some weight off of his chest. “Honestly. I really am.”

The only response he can answer with is a sound. Not quite affirmation but not quite negative either so of course Jose bulldozes on, and grills him once again.

“What are you doing up there?”

“Nothing really. Just surviving I guess. Maybe a little bit of trouble.”

///////////////////

The late night finds Jose or Vanessa outside of a winding down club. The booming music can’t be heard through the heavy door she would walk through after this phone call.

She didn’t know why she had to be in drag, to call him. Maybe Vanessa gave him the armor he needed, just in case things went south.

It was weird hearing Brock’s voice, he hadn’t seen him in years, let alone heard him.

“Well trouble seems to have found a partner in you.”

The chilled brick against her sequined bodysuit is comforting, the stillness on Brock’s end of the phone line is calming. His voice so measured and quiet that she could almost fall asleep.

“Yeah, maybe something like that.”

“Listen....... I’m a drag queen.”

A loud almost abrupt laugh is yanked from Brock’s throat. The image of short but scrappy Jose as a woman more fitting than he would have previously thought.

The laugh makes Vanessa slightly nervous. The Brock that left school was still a closeted gay boy, there was no knowing how adult Brock was handling his sexuality, or anybody else’s expression for that matter.

“You’re a queen huh?”

“Yeah, I moved and got into dance, kinda funny that I’m the dancer now, huh? I was backup for a queen and I fell into it one day. I can be real damn fishy while I’m busting my ass on stage.” Vanessa says proudly as the acceptance she can feel through the phone is showered upon her. 

His approval is for some reason important to her.

“So you’re on some Alyssa Edwards type of shit, or what?”

“Bitch, I’m better than Alyssa Edwards.”

“Well, you better be or else you won’t be doing it for long.” The banter between the two fully exposing itself as they volley jokes and quips.

The laughter between them sometimes overpowering their words to each other.

“So, I was thinking about you during that song. The dj played it and you know every queen has her own music but this song just stopped me in my tracks.” Vanessa gets back to the supposed purpose of her call to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and the guy she was directing all her attention to reminded me of you for some reason.”

“What was the song?”

Vanessa doesn’t answer the question. The song playing out in her head rather than being verbalized on the phone. “Well if you visit me, your ass can hear the song, and any other song you want.”

“So it must be good.” Brock didn’t know if he was asking about her performances or the song. It almost didn’t matter, anything Jose set his mind to was gold, so there was no doubt that she would turn it.

“Yeah, its really good. If you do make your tall ass down here though, find me.”

“Is this your number?”

Yep, but if you really wanna reach me, call my mom. She’d probably be happy to hear from your polite ass.”

“You might be right.” A faint ‘I know I’m right, bitch’ can be heard as Brock turns around with the bed sheets wrapping around his torso. The more comfortable position allows him to almost imagine that Jose is right beside him, just talking and laughing.

“It’s called ‘Wandering Glass’. If you’re ever done here, I better be the first person you see. You can see performances and I’ll play the song.”

Brock can’t really say anything to that so he puts the phone to his other ear and waits. 

“Alright then, you stay your ass outta trouble so that I can see how tall you got.”

Brock can’t help but chuckle as the phone line clicks, his laughter cut off after Jose ended the call.

Once the call ends he looks at the record, it only reads 5 minutes and a few seconds. It felt like a lifetime and a forgotten second all at once.

//////////////////

Brock wakes up, once again shirtless and yawning after, a for once restful sleep.

The stretches that he usually does take a backseat once he feels an uncomfortable stickiness under his covers.

After inspecting he can’t help but fall back into bed. He’ll need to do laundry.

///////////////////

Brock finds himself lost in thought as he makes his way, away from Atlanta, away from Georgia. 

Jose. 

The only person he’s unconsciously thinking about is still invading his thoughts. The phone call they shared still making his head spin. Almost feels like he has a concussion with how disorienting everything feels when thinking about Jose.

He had been training even harder, his body screaming at him constantly now, mostly through sore muscles and bulging veins.

The renewed energy has won him every single fight he’s been in. Only after the phone call though.

The club that Vanessa told him, holds her and the song is staring at him. He stares back and watches as people stumble out through the heavy front doors. There’s no line but he feels anxious.

He could just leave. He could leave and Jose would never know that he was here. He wouldn’t see Vanessa, but he would save himself from his feelings.

Brock forces himself to open the car door. Putting one foot in front of the other he manages to walk around and change his shirt, trying to make a good impression.

On who, he doesn’t know. 

With the shirt on, newly straightened against his body, he walks towards the club like he goes about walking towards the ring.

He’s confident and light on his toes. Nothing can break him, only others will be bent by him.

The club doors are pulled by him and he is greeted with a surprising image. There are chairs and a decent stage. Instead of sweaty grinding bodies people are walking about, ordering drinks, having loud conversations, watching someone lip sync with so much emotion it’s almost as if they are the actual singer.

To give himself even more confidence, Brock heads straight to the bar and orders some tequila. 

It was easy to knock the shots back. He didn’t know how many, but they made him looser, which in turn meant he walked towards the edge of the stage and found a seat. 

The seat just so happened to be at the foot of the stage right in front of any performer who was standing on said stage.

The music ends and people scream cheers and clap as the queens helper picks up the tips that accumulated on the stage.

The curtain moves against her body as she walks behind it. The host for the night, introduces another queen, a Silky Ganache something.

Brock was interested but he was only here to see Jose.

The queen was energetic and before long he had gotten out money and started making it rain on the plus sized queen doing all the flips and tricks.

Eventually the medley ends and he almost feels sad to see this lively ball of sparkles and glitter leave the stage.

Another queen is announced and once she comes out, Brock knows that he’s in for it.

She’s one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen, and the ballad she chose has all the right moves, to make him reach for his wallet again.

Once she’s finished Brock goes to get another drink. He had a feeling that coming to the bar was a bust, Jose didn’t seem to there. 

Despite having fun, he wished that he hadn’t of missed the chance to just see him after so long.

He was so far away front the stage and it’s noise that he missed the queens name, the one parting the curtains like it was just an obstacle.

Brock quickly jumps into his seat and watches entranced as Jose’s face comes into view.

‘She’s beautiful’ is the first thought he has. There was no question or doubt in his mind that this was his person.

They make eye contact, and he can tell that she recognizes him too. The entire song she stares him down.

After her number is up he wants to follow after her. Not knowing the proper etiquette he stays seated and watches as another performer comes up and gets the crowds attention again.

/////////////////

“Biiiitttcch! You have to see this fine piece of trade in the front row. He was throwing all the money on these titties.” Silky boisterously yells as Vanessa is brushing her wig, about to go on after A’keria’s number.

“Damn, I’ll have to keep watch. I haven’t gotten any in a while, especially after Gio.” Vanessa replies not really paying attention as Silky continues to talk about any and everything.

Usually Vanessa would be right with her, chattering and talking until you can’t talk anymore, the only difference was the fact that Brock could be out there. 

Every night that she performed her eyes searched the crowd looking for anyone who fit his description even slightly.

Even though she hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, she had a feeling that the minute they saw each other, they would know.

After A’keria makes her way backstage after her number, Vanessa knows that she’s up next. The time between numbers even smaller for her once she finishes because they’re bringing out their DreamGirls act.

The host announces her and she makes her way around the stage as the beat to her song picks up tempo. The crowd was entranced as usual, as she expertly sings along with lyrics belting at an unreasonable volume for anywhere but a club.

Just like Silky said there was man in the front, he was tall and blonde and she was sure he was her Brock.

The bruised boy who left her was nowhere to be found. He was muscled and he looked confident. There were no slouched shoulders or eyes on laps, he was staring right at her, no he was staring through her, into her soul.

The number seems to go by as fast as a speeding car on a highway. Once it’s up there is no time for Vanessa to think about anything but her wig and outfit change.

A DreamGirls performance will for sure close the night out for the three queens. As per usual for this night, Brock is only staring at her as she goes along with the choreography.

When they get closer to the crowd to accept tips, there’s Brock holding out a $50 dollar bill.

The bill is the only thing between them as they both hold onto it. Vanessa makes sure that she brushes her hand against his.

The touch, however brief brings about memories. 

Once the song ends and the thunderous applause washes against Vanessa ears, she can’t help but want it to end so that’s he can finally talk to Brock.

After they cool down, and the excitement of another successful night fades, Vanessa looks at herself in the mirror.

She asked for this but the thought of actually talking to Brock face to face was nerve wracking.

The dressing room door is being knocked on. Everyone is mostly vacated from the room, minus the other DreamGirls.

////////////////////////

Brock is nervously shuffling around as the people dance around. The queens haven’t come back out, and he doesn’t want to overstep despite being invited.

He makes his way over to where he assumes the dressing room is. The door is knocked on and all he does is wait.

The door is opened and Jose enters his vision, still in drag but just as beautiful up close.

He still hasn’t looked up but once he does his shocked face inspires no confidence in an already nervous Brock.

“Brock?” is said semi-incredulously, despite having a feeling that the man in the front row was Brock, it was another to actually see him. “Why didn’t you say anything? I thought it was you.”

He doesn’t respond, and before he can think up an answer he is enveloped in a warm embrace. Jose’s arms are around his shoulders and eventually his arms come around Jose’s waist.

The hug lasts for longer than some would deem necessary. The fact that Vanessa is still on her tiptoes despite being in heels to reach his shoulders pisses her off, but only slightly since she’s just happy that he’s here. 

Brock finally reciprocates the hug by rubbing slow but small circles into Jose’s back. The warm comforting hand is surprising but not unwelcome so when they part there is a huge smile on her face.

“So what’s her name?” Brock says with an equally big smile on his face. He was aware of drag and despite the fact that he was dealing with some internal issues he could enjoy the expression. “I can’t keep calling you Jose when you look like that.”

“When I look like this?” is said incredulously as Vanessa gets a better look at Brock and his whole demeanor. “Damn Brock.”

“I’m Vanessa.”

“Well then, Hello Vanessa my name is Brock.”

“What is your ass doing here....I mean, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.

All Brock does is nod. 

“There your ass go with all the nodding. I was happy to just get a sentence and now we back to the head shakes. You really haven’t changed, have you?”

Brock can’t help but smile, the fact that Jose, or now Vanessa could always put a smile to his face something to be marveled at. 

“You told me that you were gonna perform for me. I don’t even know what to say.”

“I did. Did ya like it!”

“I loved it.”

“If you had told my ass that you were coming, I woulda played the song for you.” Vanessa shoves him and he falls back into the wall opposite of them exaggeratedly.

Vanessa goes to stand across from him in the lit hallway. They stand close but far, they talk loud but softly, and they catch each other staring as the other looks away.

“Well you’re here now. I’m gonna get my stuff so that we can talk. I want you to meet some people so don’t run off.” is what Vanessa leaves Brock with as she goes back inside the room he had knocked on, as he looks at his phone, 10 minutes ago.

//////////////////////

Vanessa makes her way into the door and slips it closed with a soft click. She leans her weight on it and take a deep breath as she closes her eyes.

The other two occupants look at her with curiosity. Special attention, it wasn’t like Vanjie to just leave a room, especially without talking to them, especially without introducing whoever she was talking to.

“Well damn bitch, where’ve you been?”

“Yeah, we thought your ass died or something.”

Those questions bombard Vanessa as she finally opens her eyes and takes stock of the room. Both of the queens are still in drag, they are just snacking on some food that’s magically appeared from someones bag. They seem to be huddled together, probably speculating about who she was talking too.

“I was talking to somebody. Actually, I want you to meet him, the guy in the front row is an old friend.” Vanessa says as she packs her makeup and costumes into a duffle bag. 

////////////////////

Brock found himself on that same beach, from all those years ago, with Jose who was currently Vanessa.

They are silent and seemingly contemplative as they sit side by side with their shoulders touching.

As is usual, Brock was staring at Vanessa and her features more than the scenery. The brief glances don’t give him the full story, but her still flawless face fills him in on the good bits.

Still not ever one to break the silence that permeates the air. Brock takes his, on the sly looks and tucks them away for a rainy day.

“What happened after you left school that day?” Vanessa asks, because despite the rumors no one really knew what had happened to the boy.

“I went to juvie. Got involved with some people who were selling any and every thing, I started selling and fighting for money to put my mom through rehab.” Brock interrupts himself to take a deep breath. “I stopped selling and I started fighting full time.”

At Vanessa look of disbelief, Brock’s heckles rise. “It is what is. It’s not a big deal.”

“Bullshit. It’s not what is is. Brock this is not you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, I don’t know your ass.”

“Listen I got myself straight, I’m not doing bad anymore.”

“So you getting your shit straight is driving almost twelve hours to see me for no reason.” Vanessa says getting frustrated because Brock was supposed to become a dancer, even if he couldn’t be a dancer at least something that didn’t involve illegal shit. “And why do you still have that dumbass red hoodie on your body?”

///////////////////

It’s been what feels like hours since Vanessa’s outburst. They didn’t speak much and they both cooled down. It was neither of theirs fault that life didn’t turn out like they hoped or expected.

“Why’d you call me?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you call me?”

“I already told your ass..... this queen played a song.”

“Yeah.”

“She performed that song...” Vanessa trails off and looks out on the water. 

//////////////////

The song is playing through the tinny speakers of Vanessa shitty phone. It sounded better on the speakers at the club but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Brock was staring at her with a knowing look.

It wasn’t a song that she would usually be into but something about it, stopped her in her tracks. They were both swaying to it looking at each other. The fact that Brock was sitting right next to her, leaning into her and smiling was something she wanted to encapsulate in her mind for as long as she lived.

This wasn’t the first time that he had smiled at her like this, in fact he had smiled at her more times than she could count, including their childhood in this one night. But this smile was different, this song was the reason why she even worked up the courage to call him after staring at his number for at least two months. He was listening to it, might even be enjoying it.

//////////////////////

The walk to exit the beach is very ungraceful, it’s filled with laughs as Brock helps balance Vanessa in the sand as she tries to walk in heels.

Once they get away from the sand, they are still not on equal ground seeing as Brock is at least six inches taller even though she’s wearing the uncomfortable shoes.

Once Brock stops in front of his car, Vanessa raises an arched brow and smirks. The car is so like Disney it’s crazy, it was almost as if the car was him personified.

“Is this yours?” Vanessa chuckles as Brock opens the door for her. “Guess you weren’t playing about those traps.”

Brock of course just shrugs and gets in the car to turn the engine. They make the drive with the occasional direction from Vanessa as they get closer to her modest home.

/////////////////

“How do you get to work?”

“Bus. Sometimes Silk or A’keria will drop me off when we work the same nights.”

“I couldn’t picture being in Miami without a car.”

“Yeah, it’s real outta here.”

“I bet.”

“It’s real hot, it’s slow, and it’s real motherfucking busted.”

“You are crazy.” 

“I’m not crazy, just real tired. I used to make money that would make this gig piss it’s panties.” Vanessa says with the shake of her head. “Makes these bones hurt more. Got me feeling like that old bitch who couldn’t get up after she fell.”

After their laughter fills the car, Vanessa looks out the window and lets out a deep sigh. The wig she was wearing was giving her a vague headache and the excitement of meeting Brock was waning slightly.

“This ride came in clutch,B.”

“Couldn’t have you taking the bus.”

They make meaningful eye contact as, Brocks eyes crinkle in that way.

“So Brock......”

“Yep.”

“You just drove here?”

“Yeah.”

“Like today you just got on one and got on the highway.”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you staying tonight?”

Brock doesn’t say anything in response, all he does is turn the music up until the bass makes sure that no words can be exchanged. The vibration from the speakers pulls them as the motion of potholes and uneven pavement become the soundtrack to their ride, with no words.

////////////////////

Vanessa gets out the car and softly closes the car door, with a delicate click it’s closed and Brock’s eyes meet her over the hood of the car.

Brock stands in the middle of Vanessa’s living room as she disappears into what he assumes is the bathroom. The faucet is running and despite her telling him to get comfortable he can’t help but look around, afraid to touch and disrupt the organized chaos that is the whole apartment, or what he can see of it.

After hearing the door open, he sees Jose for the first time that night. The man standing before him is not much taller, but he is more handsome if that was even possible.

“You want something to drink? I shoulda asked before I got out of geish but it was uncomfortable as hell.”

“Yeah, some water please.”

Jose makes his way to the sink and fills a glass up to the brim with lukewarm water. He makes one for himself and they sit across from each other as they stare.

Brock takes a long drink from the water, exposing his neck that Jose can’t look away from. After he finishes Jose smiles.

“Who are you?”

“Who, me?”

“Yeah, you bitch. The car? The muscles? The fighting? Who is you, Brock?”

“I’m me, not trying to be anything else.” Brock says through a shrug, as Jose looks like he’s trying to look right through him.

“So you hard now?”

“I didn’t say all of that.”

“Then what?” Jose says as his irritation at the man in front of him increases. “Listen, I’m not trying to make you mad, I just haven’t seen you in a while. You’re not what I expected, none of it. It’s not a good or bad thing, just unexpected.”

“What did you expect?”

Jose can’t answer for a while. “Do you remember the last one I saw you?”

Brock nods and makes some sort of affirmation with his body. “For a long time I didn’t want to remember. I tried to forget all those times, the good, the bad, all of it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“When we got back to Atlanta, I restarted and built myself from the ground, no I was lower than the ground. I was buried in grief and depression and I crawled my way out of it. So I built myself hard.” Brock says in one breath, this was the first time that he had ever admitted that to another human. “What about you?”

“Me? I just kept on, I wasn’t worth shit and I had never done anything I actually wanted to do, was all I could do was what others thought I should do, I wasn’t ever myself.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now I have drag, and I have a few friends that make things easier.”

“Damn, that’s real shit.” was what Brock could wheeze out in almost jealousy.

“Yeah, but it’s a life, my life ya know? I ain’t never had anything like that before. I’m tired as hell and my feet hurt enough for five people but I’m not worried about anything. I don’t have any of the worries that I had before, and that’s some Buddha shit right there.”

Brock has a small smile on his face for the duration of Jose’s little speech about happiness. The fact that he had started to hum an meditative tune while holding his hands clasped also had something to do with to it.

Jose eventually gets up and changes the music on the radio. The song is something forgettable and once Jose sits back down, Brock can’t help but want to tell him all his secrets.

“You’re the only man who’s ever touched me.” is said into the still air and Jose loses all the breath in his lungs. “The only one..... I haven’t really touched anyone since.” Brock has his hands flat on the table, almost as if they will propel him forward or away based on the response he gets, one he is waiting for with bated breath.

/////////////////////

Brock and Jose are standing right in front of each other, in Jose’s tiny kitchen, in the summer heat, under warm sepia tones tiles.

“You shakin.”

“Yeah.”

“Wait a sec.”

Jose turns the low light off and they stand once again in total darkness. The only sound Brock can hear is his heartbeat and Jose’s soft breath washing against his neck.

“I’m shaking.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m still shaking.”

“Yeah.”

////////////////////

Brock wakes up in a cold sweat, unusual since he hasn’t had a nightmare in months.

The hand tugging on him to lay back down is getting more persistent, so he abides by it and lays back down.

Brock grabs the hand and puts Jose’s hand back on his abdomen as he tries to get back to sleep. Being used as a human pillow was somehow comforting and in no time he had fallen asleep once again.

The waves can faintly be heard through an open window in the humid apartment but inside of the bed they are warm but happy, content but radiant in their love.


End file.
